


Dust

by Sarita1046



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Study, Daddy Issues, Dark, Femdom, Gen, Heavy Angst, Past Child Abuse, Promiscuity, Rough Sex, Sadism, Stranger Sex, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarita1046/pseuds/Sarita1046
Summary: Nebula doesn’t recall when she started using pain and pleasure as a way to feel.Musical inspiration: "Dark Nebula" by Brandon & Derek Fiechter





	Dust

Nebula doesn’t recall when she started using pain and pleasure as a way to feel. More specifically, when she first took to sado-masochistic fucking just to keep what remains of her mind from burning out of its segmented skull encasing. 

Nor does she know whether precious Gamora even suspects these habits. Thanos always wants her sister around anyway, less concerned about Nebula's whereabouts…for which the Luphomoid soon realizes she is more grateful than envious. She is unable to indulge in the effects of substances - _Daddy_ has made sure all of his children are dutifully immune. Thus, sex provides a worthy catharsis.

Tonight, Nebula rides a random Ravager…she thinks he somewhat resembles Kraglin. Perhaps that's what had caught her eye from across the seedy bar. She's finding she harbors a soft spot for Xandarians...must be their soft, malleable disposition and simultaneous durability. The convenient sexual compatibility doesn't hurt either. 

In any case, it’s progress as far as she’s concerned. The last man she sought to entertain herself on Contraxia between assignments evidently couldn’t handle the prospect of what he had suspected was the latest pleasure bot model. He’d made a mess of himself before either of them could remove any clothing, after which she'd snarled at him to leave his own flat.

This one though…well, at least he obediently leads her back to his lodging. So far, he holds it together while she undresses both of them and climbs aboard...

And he apparently enjoys being choked, a stark contrast to the usual trend of men who initially seek to dominate. Typically, she finds the women to be most compliant. Not this particular man though, all long limbs and a face eager to obey. As soon as he places her hands on his throat, Nebula has to focus to keep herself from shattering bone…especially when the subtle warm tingle begins in her pelvis. This part always comes accompanied by great anger and aggression. She sees flashes of Gamora’s sweat-sheened face during a sparring session, the sick yet proud grin on her father’s lips.

“My Nebula,” he would say, “Blue of the sea, purple of dusk. So colorful, yet still weak. “

Every time he remarked on her appearance, she typically had another limb or part replaced within the next several hours. The pattern didn’t take long to detect, nor her father's utter disregard for the natural physical superiority of Gamora's kind to her own. Nebula had never stood a chance, no matter how hard she fought or how many hours a day she trained. She paid for it with her body. More machine than flesh and bone. And yet, she can still feel between her thighs…

That sweet release - she’s chased it with dozens of partners already….seeking that euphoric peak that seems to truly personify that colossal cloud of dust for which Thanos named her. That natural interstellar cloud of so many colors. The one thing he hasn't taken from her...her utterly disgusting physique, mutilated beyond repair, including the ability to reproduce. Why not destroy it? Yet somehow she doubts such fun can be considered destruction. Doesn't she deserve to feel something besides maddening torment? No, unlike her stiff, perfectly modest sister, Nebula needs this one thing...and she _will_ have it. No matter how much Gamora coyly avoids that Earth idiot's advances, it doesn't make her a morally superior being, nor any more skilled an assassin. Stars, perhaps it's the blissed out expression on her partner's face she craves just as much as her own satisfaction - the notion that this broken body can still bring pleasure, as opposed to simply fear, destruction and death.

Nebula’s reverie collapses to the desperate moan of the pathetic thing beneath her. The low, small bed protests beneath them.

“You...you're my first," he sputters, as she lets up on his throat just a hair. He clasps her breast then, the sweat on his forehead and fervent movements evidence enough of his impending climax.

"First what?" she almost snaps, not wanting to be disracted from her own approaching release.

"First robotic lover," he manages through labored breaths, "So real...fuck, it's _amazing_."

So apparently, she blends in with the cheap Contraxian sex droids. Something cold slices through her chest at that. She remains silent above him, increasing the pace of her hips until he shutters violently beneath her and she leans her chest into his hand. Despite his obvious climax, he keeps moving enthusiastically, evidently spurred on by her continued motions. 

Not a moment later, his eyes widen, grey gaze boring up into her ebony irises. “You…is that a heartbeat? You’re real? You’re _alive_?”

“Real is subjective,” Nebula deadpans, matching his needy rhythm without even breaking a sweat. She steels her gaze to conceal the humiliation of his shock. “We are all just dust.”

In the next few moments, she's lost to her own peak, biting her tongue to refrain from vocalizing physical sensations, something she's learned to do for most of her life. To make sounds is weakness.

This is always the part when her sister’s battle grunts and father’s wry smiles permeate her consciousness, accentuated by the blissful nebula touching every centimeter of her body. Still, as ever, the memory of that agonizing tearing of tendons from muscles and finally bones overrides the pleasure. The notion that her long-time guardian destroyed her homeworld, leaving her as quite possibly the last of her kind. Then comes that spark of tenderness she had almost allowed herself to feel upon Gamora's embrace...the ember that has slowly begun to alleviate the murderous urge engrained into them both under Thanos.

That ember matters little tonight. The fury and pain over this weakling's surprise at her authenticity choose that moment to combine with the ecstatic loss of control during her orgasm. Clasping him around the throat, she snaps his spine.

Sitting back, she idly feels him go limp inside her. His eyes remain open, staring up at nothing. Although he no longer breathes, Nebula slumps at the sudden weightlessness of relief now that his eyes no longer fix on her mechanized visage. Even in death, that shocked stare had burned into her core.

“Some of that dust is just more colorful.”

The time had come to stop procrastinating with killing innocents and take on the real target - Thanos. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love Nebula so much I just had to write for this head canon. I wish there were a tag for anti-slut shaming!


End file.
